Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
My voice cracks on the last word, so Giovanni grabs hold of the reins I’m barely clasping.
“Where to next?” he asks Elio, who’s been guiding our raids across Carlisle for the past six or so hours. Azra is still here. I can feel it in my bones. My fear just isn’t allowing me to pinpoint her exact location. “Just point. We’ll burn the whole fucking city to ash if we have to.”
Everyone is here. My brothers. Our cousins. Even my father.
He surveys the wreckage of our latest bloodbath with a grim expression. “This was the last Adami-friendly zone. We need to think outside the box.”
He’s right, but my fear is eating me alive. I can’t think or breathe, but there’s one thing I definitely understand. I can’t lose her.
I won’t survive it.
I won’t be my father.
I won’t move on after losing the love of my life.
Azra is it for me.
If she isn’t here, I won’t be either. It is that simple.
“Still nothing on the livestream?” I ask.
Nico shakes his head on Elio’s behalf since he’s too focused on the laptop balanced on the hood of the SUV to answer me.
“Nothing yet—”
“Hold on,” Elio interrupts, raising his pained eyes. “I’ve got new footage.”
We crowd the screen, and my heart stops.
Azra’s dark locks sway against her back as she moves through freestanding black curtains, her steps unsteady.
“She’s outside,” I say when stars flicker above her like a twisted stage set.
As she staggers across a painted concrete floor, I drag my eyes down her body. Restraints mark her wrists and ankles, but the rest of her appears relatively untouched.
Thank fuck.
“No, no, no… la mia tigrotta…” I whisper when she drifts toward the edge of a rooftop.
I’ve seen this footage before, multiple times over the past week, as we tried to piece together Hattie’s suicide. Azra isn’t wearing a soiled white nightie like her best friend, but her sways and the lifelessness in her eyes are identical.
Fear grips me as I fight to push past it. “Where have I seen that structure before?”
Large columns flank half the screen. They’re Romanian and disclose that Azra’s location is one of the many old relics in Carlisle. We could go for another six hours before we find her. That’s how many structures like this are dotted throughout the region. But this one registers as familiar.
Someone responds with the most obvious answer. “They feature in Hattie’s suicide video, but we don’t know where she committed suicide. It’s never been disclosed.”
I sling both my eyes and my gun to the side when the voice registers as unfamiliar. It’s accented and brimming with as much anger and frustration as mine has held all evening. “Who the fuck are you?”
A large man with wide shoulders, a dark mop of hair, and an arrogant smirk pushes himself into the family circle. “Ahmet Şahin. Azra’s brother.” He gestures to three men lighting up our chests with the red dots of assault weapons. “That’s Kemal, Ömer, and Rüzgar. We’re here to help.”
To show good faith, he signals for the men to stand down.
I’m too angry to appreciate the gesture. “Help? Like you did when you sat in the front row, ready to watch your sister marry a monster?” I spit at his feet. “Get the fuck out of here before I help your sister bury more than her ex this week.”
Ahmet laughs. “Let me just say, if you hadn’t shown up when you did, Antonio would already be dead. We were just waiting for her to marry the prick so she could get back her family home.” Snarling, he looks me up and down. “We also thought she’d be safe with you.” He pffts. “Didn’t even take you a week to prove us wrong.”
I fist his shirt and drag him forward at the same time my knuckles crack his nose. Blood pisses out of the split down the broad bridge of his nose, but all he does is smirk.
Fucking psychopath.
My fists are itching to play Whac-A-Mole with his face, but the sight of the red ooze sliding down his face reminds me of the last time we undertook a bloodbath.
“They’re the same columns from the property where Lucia was almost gang-raped.” My chest heaves as utmost certainty smacks into me. “We couldn’t be fucked carrying the perps down the stairs.” I twist to face Nico. “So we tossed them into the truck parked under the open roof space.”
I can see the exact moment recognition dawns on Nico’s face. “Yes. That’s it. How the fuck did we not realize? We would have walked that rooftop a hundred times that night.”
Bittersweet relief almost buckles my knees.
We have Azra’s location.
Finally.
“Let’s go,” Giovanni shouts, already in the driver’s seat.
Minutes later, memories of the fear etched on Dante’s face weeks ago flash before my eyes as I take the stairs of a multimillion-dollar property two at a time. My lungs burn, and my heart slams against my ribs, but I don’t slow down.